


Best Intentions

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Dubious Science, Gen, Secrets, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: The only people who knew that Gabe’s condition was beginning to deteriorate were Angela and Jesse. Even Angela and Jesse only got bits and pieces of the full picture - partly because Gabe couldn’t fully wrap his head around what was degrading, and partly because he was too scared to admit he was scared.---Gabe turns to Dr. Moira O'Deorain for help when his body begins to degrade.





	Best Intentions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> Here's my take on Day 4 of [Blackwatch Week](https://blackwatchweek.tumblr.com/): Friends/Enemies. I've got a fic for each day the rest of the week, so stay tuned! 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/) for being an incredible beta and better friend ♥ 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic)!

Gabe spent years dealing with the lingering effects of the Soldier Enhancement Program largely on his own. He had always had some side effects - the endless hunger, occasional migraines, various aches and pains, as well as some strange and not entirely unwelcome effects on his refractory period. While not exactly ideal, the side effects had always been manageable. Dr. Ziegler did her best, of course, and it was never much of a problem. Jack had some of his own side effects, of course, but he also benefited from a later, more refined version of the serum than the one that the government dosed Gabe with. Angela kept an eye on both of them with regular check ups and treatment of symptoms as they came up. 

It was enough until it wasn’t. 

The only people who knew that Gabe’s condition was beginning to deteriorate were Angela and Jesse; Angela, by virtue of being his doctor, and Jesse, since they not only worked side by side but also because they shared a bed. Gabe didn’t trust anyone else with his worry. Even Angela and Jesse only got bits and pieces of the full picture - partly because Gabe couldn’t fully wrap his head around what was degrading (was it the SEP serum? His body? His body  _ because  _ of the SEP serum?), and partly because he was too scared to admit he was scared. 

“The Soldier Enhancement Program changed you at the most fundamental level, Gabriel,” Angela says during one of their check ups. “It’s not like a cold - there isn’t any virus or bacteria in your system because the enhancements have become part of your system. It’s your biology now. It’s just who you are.”

Gabe frowns, fidgeting in his seat on the edge of the exam table. Angela gives him a sympathetic look that only makes Gabe frown deeper. 

“It's the same thing we’ve always known,” Angela says gently. “We can continue to treat the symptoms, but outside of that, there’s not a lot we can do. This isn’t something we cure, it’s something we treat.”

Gabe leaves Angela’s office in a stormy mood. He throws himself into his work because that at least keeps him busy, keeps his mind off whatever is going on in his body that is so incurable it’s just his reality now. He thinks, vaguely, that it isn’t fair this happened to him. But, then, another part of his brain helpfully reminds him: he volunteered for this. Maybe, under different circumstances, Gabe wouldn’t have signed up for the program. 

He just wanted to save the world. 

The opportunity arises to hire Dr. Moira O’Deorain, a geneticist. Gabe knew her name while she was in Overwatch, but had always been under the impression that she was more scientist than doctor. Her most recent paper got her effectively fired from Overwatch after it caused such a stir in the scientific community that the science division decided they couldn’t handle the press burden. Out of curiosity, Gabe looked up the paper himself. 

He ended up reading it cover to cover, staying up all night to do so. In the morning, dizzy with lack of sleep and the budding promise of a  _ possibility _ , Gabe files the request to bring Dr. O’Deorain into the Blackwatch fold. 

Jack corners Gabe in the officer’s lounge when he’s getting coffee between meetings. 

“I saw your request,” Jack says, holding up his tablet. Gabe glances sideways at Jack, stirring cream into his coffee - a habit he picked up from Jesse, though he still refuses to dump as much sugar into his mug as Jesse does. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“She’s an important resource,” Gabe says, choosing his words carefully. “If having her in Overwatch is too much of a liability for you - then she should be in Blackwatch. Nobody needs to know she’s there. That’s the whole point of Blackwatch.”

Jack frowns, something like concern creasing his face. “I don’t know, Gabe. All that hullabaloo with that paper… Maybe they’re onto something - the ethics are… fuzzy.”

“As they are with Blackwatch,” Gabe says. He takes a deep sip from his mug and just barely resists closing his eyes. The caffeine slides down his throat like a some sort of healing balm. 

“Why do you want her, Gabe, really?” Jack asks. He’s going the direct route for once. Gabe takes another sip, stalling. 

“If you’re really concerned about the ethics of her work, isn’t it better to keep her close, to keep an eye on her?”

Jack gives him a long look. Gabe doesn’t squirm, he barely blinks - he’s used to squaring off against Jack, particularly when it comes to Blackwatch matters. But Jack is taking a different tack this time. He seems genuinely concerned - but then, when has anything Blackwatch has done sat well with Jack?

“Alright,” Jack says finally. “Alright. But I don’t want to see hide or hair of her - she should be completely off the record. You understand?”

“It’s what Blackwatch does best.”

Jack gives Gabe another long look but doesn’t say anything more, leaving Gabe to pour himself another cup of coffee. 

Later that afternoon, the approval comes through. 

In addition to asking for the transfer of Dr. O’Deorain, Gabe requests lab space for Blackwatch. That requisition order is approved separately but in time for Dr. O’Deorain to have a space to report to once the transfer is official. 

Gabe goes to the lab to welcome Dr. O’Deorain to the team personally. He had looked at her personnel file before she arrived. There wasn’t anything in her file that gives Gabe pause; she doesn’t seem to be particularly well-suited to teamwork, if her reviews are any indication, but that isn’t necessarily a red flag for Gabe. Her work is always top notch, quick, and precise. It’s exactly what he needs. 

“Dr. O’Deorain,” Gabe says when she steps into the lab. “Welcome to Blackwatch.”

Dr. O’Deorain glances around the lab. Her heterochromatic eyes are striking in the stark light of the lab. When her gaze settles on Gabe, a strange feeling creeps down his spine. 

“Commander,” she says, with an incline of her head. “I appreciate the opportunity. From what I understand, Blackwatch is a different beast than Overwatch.”

“You’re not wrong,” Gabe says. “We have less oversight, more freedom to do what needs to be done. It’s not pretty work.”

A glint flashes through Dr. O’Deorain’s eyes, the corner of her mouth curling up almost imperceptibly. 

“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty if the occasion calls for it.”

“Then you’ll fit right in.”

“Forgive me, as I don’t mean to question the opportunity, but what interest does Blackwatch have in a geneticist?” she asks. Gabe almost smiles. 

“I read your paper,” Gabe says. Dr. O’Deorain raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt. “I think a person with your skills, and your particular point of view, is an asset that shouldn’t be overlooked.”

Dr. O’Deorain regards him critically. 

“Indeed.”

“I’ll let you get settled,” Gabe says. “Welcome to the team.”

Gabe leaves her in the lab, wondering if he should’ve been more upfront about the real reason he’s brought her on. He wants more time to figure out whether or not Dr. O’Deorain can actually help him - or, rather, if he can trust her to help him. Gabe doesn’t trust easily. 

“She gives me the creeps,” Jesse says a week or two later, lying back on their bed and tossing a little Pachimari-shaped stress ball at the ceiling. Gabe pokes his head out of the bathroom and points his toothbrush at him. 

“She’s been here all of five minutes,” Gabe says around his mouthful of toothpaste. Jesse picks up his head to look at him. 

“I dunno, Gabe. I just get this feeling,” he says. Gabe waves a hand dismissively and goes to spit and rinse. 

“You always just get this feeling,” Gabe says as he comes back out of the bathroom. He flops down on the bed next to Jesse. 

“My feelings are usually right,” Jesse points out. He props himself up to look Gabe in the eye. “I dunno, Gabe. I just think we ought to be careful with this one.”

“She’s a scientist,” Gabe says. 

“All the more reason,” Jesse says. “You know people don’t need guns to cause trouble.”

Gabe makes a face and rolls onto his back. Jesse sits up to keep his eyes on Gabe’s face. His expression is serious, brow furrowed. 

“Why’d you bring her on, Gabe? Really?”

Gabe exhales. He can never hide anything from Jesse, no matter how much he tries; Jesse is too good at reading him. He doesn’t mean to keep Jesse in the dark on this one, but it’s more… it’s a matter of not getting anyone’s hopes up - Jesse’s. His own. As if Gabe doesn’t actually acknowledge his reasons for bringing Dr. O’Deorain into Blackwatch out loud, they’re not really true. 

Gabe meets Jesse’s eyes. 

“You know what Angela’s said. The SEP crap - it’s either fading or breaking down, and it’s taking me with it,” Gabe says, his voice quiet. Jesse’s face falls. 

“Oh - Gabe,” he says with a little headshake. He lies back down, tucking himself into Gabe’s side. Gabe’s arm automatically comes up and wraps around Jesse’s shoulders, holding him close. The warm bulk against his side is grounding, comforting. Gabe doesn’t say anything for a few long moments and Jesse doesn’t try to fill the silence. It’s one of the things that Gabe loves best about Jesse. 

“Dr. O’Deorain’s specialty is genetics. If anyone could help, it’s her,” Gabe says finally. He feels Jesse swallow against his shoulder. 

“I don’t know, Gabe,” Jesse says again. Gabe can hear the worry in his voice. 

“I don’t either,” Gabe says, more forcefully than he means to. “But I’m not going to go down without a fight.”

Jesse sits back up, sliding one hand over Gabe’s jaw to cup his cheek. 

“I know. I know, Gabe,” Jesse says. His eyes search Gabe’s face. “I just want you to be careful, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s a pretty short list,” Gabe says with a wry twist of his lips. Jesse blinks and makes a face. He ducks down to press a light, chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Then it should really make you think twice before you jump, huh?”

“I’m not jumping on anything.”

“Good. Just - I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

A surge of emotion wells up in Gabe’s chest. He reaches up and pulls Jesse back down so he can kiss him properly. 

✖✖✖

Gabe takes Jesse’s words to heart. It’s not that he wasn’t being careful before, but Jesse’s worried face has a cooling effect on Gabe’s determination. 

At least until his next check up with Angela. Gabe comes out of her office feeling strangely distant, disconnected from his body. 

He walks straight to Dr. O’Deorain’s lab and lets himself inside. She looks up from her workbench, slightly surprised, when Gabe walks in. He drops a tablet on the table in front of her. 

“I have an assignment for you,” he says. Dr. O’Deorain sets down her beaker carefully before she picks up the tablet. Her expression doesn’t change as she scrolls through the file on the screen. Gabe doesn’t move, arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching her face. 

“This is an advanced case,” Dr. O’Deorain says eventually. She sets the tablet back down on her workbench. 

“A lost cause?”

Dr. O’Deorain laughs. Gabe is taken aback - he’s sure he’s never heard her laugh in the months she’s been on the team. When she looks at Gabe again, she’s practically smiling, a glint in her eye. 

“Oh no,” she says. “No, not by my standard.”

Gabe can’t help the surge of hope that rises in his chest. He swallows thickly. 

“I want a full analysis on the file and your proposed approach,” Gabe says. “As soon as possible.”

“Of course. Time is of the essence.”

Gabe nods curtly and turns on his heel to walk out of the lab. 

“Commander?” Dr. O’Deorain asks just before Gabe reaches the door. Gabe pauses without turning. “Is this your file?”

“I want the report on my desk by the end of the week,” Gabe says. He wrenches open the door and walks out of the lab before he can say anything he regrets. 

✖✖✖

Dr. O’Deorain delivers the report the next day. Gabe shuts himself in his office and reads it cover to cover, twice. When he finishes reading it the second time, he sets his tablet down and leans his elbows on his desk, head in his hands. His heart is thumping hard in his chest. 

She is proposing a solution, a treatment. 

Gabe takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves and clear his mind. He reads Dr. O’Deorain’s report again. It’s well reasoned - it doesn’t make any broad, sweeping claims. There’s an entire section on the possible drawbacks, side effects, and efficacy of the treatment. 

Even if Dr. O’Deorain’s report had said that the possible drawbacks would outweigh any benefits the treatment might provide, Gabe would still probably do it. 

He’s basically dying - what other options does he have?

Late the night that Dr. O’Deorain delivered the report, Gabe goes to the lab. He’s not particularly surprised to find Dr. O’Deorain there. She looks up at the sound of the door sliding open. 

“I read your report,” Gabe says. Dr. O’Deorain looks at him expectantly, one eyebrow slightly cocked. “When can we start?”

Gabe slides into bed beside Jesse, who wakes as the bed dips beneath him. He half-turns to squint at Gabe in the dark. 

“Where’ve you been?” Jesse asks, his voice thick with sleep. He octopuses his arms around Gabe, drawing him in, his warm body enveloping Gabe’s. Gabe closes his eyes. 

“Working.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, letting his breath out in a woosh. “I think so.”

✖✖✖

The treatments begin the following day. Gabe blocks off time on his calendar late in the evening and heads to the lab straight after his afternoon meetings. Dr. O’Deorain is already there, laying instruments out on her workbench. She gestures to a chair beside it. 

“Commander,” she says with a nod of her head. “Please, have a seat.”

“You can call me Gabriel here,” he says, moving to sit down. He’s jittery, mostly out of anticipation, but he can’t deny he’s not nervous, too. “I think we’re going to get to know each other pretty well.”

Dr. O’Deorain gives him a thin-lipped smile. “Moira, then. Just relax - I’ll need you to take off your shirt, Gabriel.”

Gabe pulls his shirt up and over his head. Dr. O’Deorain -  _ Moira _ \- sticks some sensors to his chest and flips the readings onto a monitor close at hand. Gabe watches his heart rate jump then even out as he forces himself to take a steadying breath. 

“The first thing I would like to do is take a sample,” Dr. O’Deorain says. As Gabe watches, she picks up an enormous needle. “This will be the worst part tonight, Gabriel, but a full analysis will help me better tune the biotics we’ll be using.”

“Whatever you have to do,” Gabe says, tearing his eyes away from the needle to look up at Moira. “I’m here for a reason.”

“I’ll do my best to be as quick as possible. Now, lean forward.”

Moira has Gabe lean forward so that he’s braced against the workbench. He feels something cool and tingly on his spine, and when he loses feeling, Moira applies a sharp pressure to his spine. He doesn’t move even though it’s one of the more painful things he’s ever experienced. He presses his fingers so hard into his own arms that he’s sure he’ll find deep bruises later. Moira finally pulls away and Gabe lets his breath out. 

“Don’t move just yet,” Moira says, moving away with the syringe. 

“What is that?”

“Bone marrow. I’ll analyze your stem cells and will have a better sense of what needs to be done,” Moira says. Gabe watches from the corner of his eye as she measures out samples into test tubes. She turns away with the tubes and Gabe can’t see where they end up. She comes back after a moment. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, sore,” Gabe says with a shrug. Moira nods. 

“You’ll feel sore tomorrow. Hopefully, the biotic will take the edge off,” Moira says. “Stay just like that. I’ll get the biotics.”

Gabe puts his head back down on his arms as Moira moves away again. He’s impatient - he knows this is going to be a long process, that there are no guarantees, but he also wants to be better now. He wants it to work. After years of quietly suffering, Gabe’s seen a glimmer of potential, and now his patience has all but dissolved. 

Moira returns with an armload of biotics. She straps them to Gabe’s body. Her hands are startlingly cold. 

“I believe if we can retrain your cells to regenerate faster, the effects of the SEP augmentations will lessen, if not fade entirely,” Moira says as she works. “I’ll know more once I have the analysis from your samples, but, in the meantime, bombarding your cells with regenerative agents should have a positive effect.”

“Whatever you need to do,” Gabe says again. Moira gives him a smile as she straps the last biotic pack into place. 

“This will be a lot more pleasant than the syringe,” she says. She flips the biotics on and it feels like a golden light washes over Gabe. He closes his eyes. 

✖✖✖

Gabe slips into bed beside Jesse late that night. He feels like he’s floating, the faint pain that haunts his body having evaporated almost completely. Jesse stirs as Gabe slots his body up against his back and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. 

“Mm?” Jesse asks. 

“Go back to sleep,” Gabe murmurs. Jesse makes a little affirmative noise, settling back into Gabe’s arms. Gabe buries his nose in Jesse’s hair, letting his eyes slide closed. 

✖✖✖

Jesse finds out about Gabe’s sessions with Moira sooner than Gabe means him to. Gabe hadn’t been planning on keeping it from Jesse forever, but he wanted to find the right time for it - when Gabe was feeling better, when some of Jesse’s ill will towards Moira had dissipated with time and trust. But Gabe had been reckless. He’d been spending too many late nights in Moira’s lab. He’d been making excuses. 

In retrospect, the fact that Jesse waited as long as he did to say something was a testament to how much Jesse trusted Gabe. 

It turned into one of their biggest fights Gabe can remember. They’re both too stubborn, speaking over each other as if one of them spoke louder than the other they’d see sense. 

“She’s helping me, Jesse. I feel  _ good _ ,” Gabe says at one point. 

“You feel good now - what happens if it stops feeling good?”

“Then I stop,” Gabe says. 

“It’s as simple as that?” Jesse asks, the skepticism clear in his voice. “You think O’Deorain ain’t gonna keep trying to use you like some kind of lab rat?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before,” Gabe says. 

“Yeah, ‘cause SEP turned out so well for you,” Jesse says. Gabe clenches up. 

“The circumstances with SEP were totally different. They were desperate.”

“And you’re not now?”

“Moira knows when to stop.”

“Does she?” Jesse asks. He’s looking at Gabe with a hardness in his eyes that Gabe can’t ever remember being on the receiving end of. “Does she really? ‘Cause I seem to remember a whole uproar about her maybe not knowing when she’s crossed a line.”

Gabe makes a frustrated noise. “We  _ have _ to push the limits, Jesse. It’s our  _ job _ .”

“It’s not your  _ job _ to kill yourself for someone else’s whim,” Jesse says. 

“Isn’t it?” Gabe shoots back. “We put our lives on the line for other people every day.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“Because it’s  _ you _ ,” Jesse says, practically shouts it. He looks away, his shoulders tense, his hands clenched at his sides. Some of the air goes out of Gabe’s lungs. 

“Jesse,” he says, softly this time. Jesse doesn’t look back at him. Gabe hesitates and then steps into his space. “Jesse. You have to trust me.”

Jesse turns his head just slightly, looking at Gabe from the corner of his eye. 

“That ain’t the problem, Gabe,” he says. He sounds tired. “I don’t trust her. She - she doesn’t know you like I do. If she goes too far, who’s gonna stop her?”

“I will,” Gabe says immediately. Jesse turns, finally, to scan Gabe’s face, his own brow knit together. 

“Will you?” Jesse asks. 

“I will,” Gabe says again. Jesse sags a little, some of the tension going out of his shoulders, though his hands are still clenched at his sides. 

“I just - I need you here, Gabe. I need you to be okay.”

“That’s the whole point,” Gabe says. He reaches for one of Jesse’s clenched hands. Jesse lets him take it, looking down at their entwined fingers. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep being here. To be okay.”

Jesse chews on his lip. He looks up to meet Gabe’s eyes. 

“Just don’t get in over your head, alright?” Jesse says. Gabe gives his hand a squeeze. 

“Then trust me, Jesse.”

✖✖✖

Everything goes well until it doesn’t. 

The regenerative treatments that Moira had been using were startlingly effective. Gabe felt clearer, stronger, faster - it was like the miracle cure he had been searching for with Angela, except now he finally has it. Even Jesse - albeit grudgingly - admitted that the treatments were doing Gabe good. 

One evening, Gabe is sitting in his usual spot in the chair beside Moira’s workbench, head tilted back against the headrest, watching Moira place the sensors and biotics on his chest with disinterest. It’s the same routine they’ve done dozens of times. Gabe could practically fall asleep during these sessions, if not for the strange tingling sensation that goes right down to his very bones. 

Moira’s been increasing the dosage over the last few weeks. His system can tolerate it - he’s responded well so far. Today shouldn’t be any different. 

Except something  _ is _ different - Gabe feels it immediately when Moira turns the biotics on. He glances at her, but she’s preoccupied by the monitor that’s projecting his vitals. Gabe closes his eyes and tries to let his mind drift. 

Something doesn’t feel right. 

His head goes dizzy, at first - foggy. Some of the side effects of Moira’s treatments have been similar, so it doesn’t bother Gabe at first. But the vertigo swells behind his eyes, giving him the feeling of his seat moving out from under him. He has the most peculiar sensation of losing control of his body in a way that he’s never felt before. It feels like vapor rolling off his body, taking pieces of him with it. Gabe opens his eyes and sees smoke. Panic surges in his chest. He looks down and sees the smoke sublimating from his skin. His flesh is hot but he doesn’t smell burning. With growing horror, Gabe lifts his hands to see the ends of his fingers dissolving into smoke. 

“Moira -” Gabe manages to choke out. Moira half-turns from the monitor to look at Gabe. Her expression hardly changes as she looks at him and he has to wonder if maybe this whole thing is just a figment of his imagination. He tries to reach for her, but his hand passes through her arm. Gabe sucks in a harsh breath. Moira’s eyebrow lifts. 

“Interesting,” she says. 

“Help me,” Gabe gasps. The smoke is consuming more of his body, his arms beginning to dissolve up to the elbows. 

But Moira doesn’t move immediately. She’s looking at him with open fascination, eyes darting between Gabe and the monitors. 

“Moira,” Gabe says again, the panic putting a harsher edge on his voice. “ _ Help me _ .”

It’s almost with reluctance that Moira finally reaches to switch off the biotics. The tingling sensation in Gabe’s marrow fades. The smoke reforms around where his arms should be but it takes much longer than Gabe expects for his flesh to become solid again. Once his fingers seem to solidify, Gabe reaches up and rips the sensors from his chest, barely wincing. He stumbles to his feet, his head spinning. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ was that?” Gabe demands, the fear and anger making his voice waver uncharacteristically. 

“An unforeseen side effect,” Moira says. She says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world - as if dissolving into smoke was a normal reaction to the treatments. Gabe doesn’t know what to say. He rubs a shaky hand over his face, the touch reassuring him somewhat. Moira taps on the monitor, her nails clicking on the screen, scrolling back through her readings. “I wish you hadn’t torn off the sensors.”

Gabe shakes his head. He doesn’t know what to say, how to process this - why does Moira seem so unconcerned?

“Is it going to happen again?” Gabe asks. 

“I’m not sure.”

Gabe makes a noise. He peels off the last sensor and reaches for his shirt. He’s shaking. He has to get out of there. 

“We’re done here,” he says. Whether he means just for the night or forever, Gabe hasn’t decided yet. Moira looks up at that. 

“I’ll analyze what data I was able to gather,” she says. “You’ll have a report in the morning.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything. He leaves the lab on unsteady feet and makes a beeline to his and Jesse’s room. Jesse’s sitting up in bed reading when Gabe comes in. Jesse looks up. 

“Hey,” Jesse says. “You’re done early.”

Gabe nods, not trusting himself to speak. He trips over his feet to get to the bed. He practically falls into bed. Surprised, Jesse sets his reading tablet aside and lays a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe shudders under the touch - he needs it, he needs more of it, he needs to feel something solid, grounding. 

“Gabe?” Jesse asks, voice tinged with concern. “You okay?”

Gabe crawls up onto the bed better, pressing the full length of his body along Jesse’s, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face into Jesse’s neck. Jesse’s arms come up automatically, holding Gabe close. Neither of them speak for a long time. After several moments, Gabe lets his breath out. 

“Sorry,” Gabe mumbles into Jesse’s neck. Jesse rubs a hand down Gabe’s back. The touch is so pleasant Gabe could cry. 

“Don’t apologize. Are you alright?”

Gabe lifts his head. “Better now.”

“What happened?” Jesse asks, careful to not let accusation slip into his tone, even though it hangs unsaid behind his words. Gabe shakes his head a little. 

“It was just - it was a lot today.”

Jesse frowns, brow furrowed, but he doesn’t press. 

“Let’s get some sleep then, yeah?” Jesse says. 

“Yeah - yeah, okay.”

But Gabe doesn’t sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he relives the moment his fingers dissolved into smoke, the sensation of his molecules spreading away from him, out of his control. He clings to Jesse throughout the night, listening to his even breaths, letting his warm, heavy body ground him. 

Gabe wonders, faintly, if he’s made a mistake. 

✖✖✖

Reaper can control it. It becomes a tactical advantage - something that gets him out of tight spots, but also something that strikes fear into the hearts of his targets. Nobody sees him coming. In the night, he blends in perfectly. 

He couldn’t have asked for a better adaptation. 

He’ll even tolerate the scientist’s experiments and treatments if it means he can continue to control the way in which his body turns to smoke. 

Reaper knows she did this to him, a long time ago, in another life. But, in a strange way, he’s indebted to her. 

That doesn’t mean he likes her. 

In fact, he’s grown increasingly wary of her. Reaper doesn’t trust blindly - if at all - and the scientist has done nothing to endear her to him. Her treatments are uncomfortable at best, and she treats him like an experiment, an object to be manipulated. He is her toy. 

Slowly but surely, Reaper worms his way out from under her thumb. As her influence lessens, Reaper is pleased to find his condition remains stable. A greater sense of clarity overcomes him. She’s manipulating him - but to what end?

As the scientist’s influence over him fades, Reaper wonders if he’ll lose his abilities or his control over his body. The thought is frightening to him, but the freedom from the scientist’s grasp is too tempting to turn away from now. 

He wonders if the scientist made him this way. 

He wonders if he was always this way. 


End file.
